Doppelganger
by GraceW
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John receives a visitor with a story to tell. A story about the reason behind why seven year old Claudette screamed after seeing Sherlock during The Reichenbach Fall. Features a vaguely familiar original character. Warnings: Kidnapping, murder threats and blackmail.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John receives a visitor with a story to tell. A story about the reason behind why seven year old Claudette screamed after seeing Sherlock during The Reichenbach Fall. Features a vaguely familiar original character. Warnings: Kidnapping, murder threats and blackmail.**

**Author's Note: Hello! This is my first Sherlock story. It is fully complete with four chapters and will be updated daily. Beta'ed by my wonderful mother, GW, and amazing friend, EH. We are all from California, so pardon the Americanisms.  
****Reviews are love and cookies and I welcome ideas and suggestions. Thank you for reading. :)**

******Doppelganger by GraceW**

**Chapter 1**

Doctor John Watson stumbled to his tiny kitchen, half asleep and craving a hot cup of tea. The September morning had a damp chill as the new day sun peaked through the trees. The breeze stirred up the wet leaves on the street and the giggles of schoolchildren met his ears. His sparse flat was small and dull, a single black chair stood in the corner nearest the window. Other than the small table and a bookcase, the room was unadorned, no fireplace with a skull on the mantel, no chemistry experiments on the table or fingers in the fridge. _No Sherlock._

John had moved out of 221B Baker Street two and a half months ago. He was sure that Mycroft Holmes still paid the rent, leaving the flat as it was, except empty of the life that had once occupied it. The doctor assumed they would go through their old flat eventually, so that Mrs. Hudson would be able to have another renter, but it was too soon.

Kettle boiled, tea brewed and paper opened, John sat down in his chair. Life was starting to move on. He still found himself expecting to see Sherlock around the corner, but John had to begin working again. His therapist assured him that if he filled his days with helping others, he would be able to move on more quickly.

John's new employer expected him next week, and although he was a bit nervous, he almost looked forward to it. He had been alone with his thoughts for far too many days. Wondering if he would be able to handle the stress and workload, he sipped at his tea.

A knock on the door interrupted his pondering. Confused, as he rarely had guests, he begrudgingly stood up to check the door. What he saw when he opened it nearly gave him a heart attack.

_Sherlock. _

No, it wasn't, of course it couldn't be. His old flatmate was three months dead. Taking a second look, John realized this man was younger, with short cropped blond hair, blue eyes and slightly fuller features. Aside from that, this young man was the spitting image of the late Sherlock Holmes.

The young man looked hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be there. "Dr. Watson?"

"Yes, that's me." John stood straight, eyeing his visitor with a calculating stare.

"Sir, my name is Benedict Carlton. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time. There's something I have to tell you."

* * *

_**3 months earlier**_

_The youth was perfect. An absolute dream. The tall thin frame, the eyes, the cheekbones. This made the consulting criminal pleased. The youth would do well. Another piece to play within the chess board that would bring an end the final problem. Game. Set. Match. _

* * *

Ben Carlton's mobile beeped, signaling an incoming call from an unknown number. _Probably wrong number or advertisement. _The tall blond rolled his eyes and tried juggling the books in his arms as he walked across the campus green to his first class of the day. He was going to be late for Advanced Astrophysics, so the call could wait. One thing at a time. Email after project after paper after presentation after more studying. He really needed a break, and a holiday somewhere with a beach and an unlimited supply of beer sounded just perfect.

The most dangerous thing for Ben until that day in June was caffeine overdose and lack of sleep while studying for exams. As a physics student in graduate school at King's College London, he knew all about the late nights studying and lab time required to keep his scholarships and pass his classes. His life was rather ordinary and plain otherwise, mixed with the usual student life activities: a large group of friends, cross-country runner, a beautiful fiancée, two little brothers and a cat.

However, he would look back and attest to how much a phone call can change someone's life.

Four hours of classes, labs and research later found Ben sitting alone at a study table, munching on a sandwich and reviewing presentation notes. His phone rang again. Frowning, the young man begrudgingly answered. "Hello?"

"Hello Ben." The male voice was unfamiliar.

"Yes…Who is this?"

"I'm a specialist. However, I need you for something. A little acting job, you could say."

"Acting? The theatre department is on the other side of campus; I think they are open nine to five. Thanks, but I've got-"

"Sorry, no. You're the one I need. Do you know what a doppelganger is, Ben?"

"Means that you could be a spitting image of someone else. I saw it on Doctor Who once."

"Yes, _you_ could." The man's voice dropped theatrically. "There is a box on the bench near your next class with your name on it. In it you will find some supplies.

"I'm being pranked again, yeah? I hope whoever put you up to this is going to buy you a drink. So I'm going to have to say no. Thanks, though." Ben moved to hang up.

"How is Kendra?" The stranger spoke softly, but his tone of voice somehow made Ben freeze, his heart unconsciously dropping into his stomach.

"Kendra? She's fine. Who are you?" Ben gripped the phone tighter.

"Well, with the wedding thirty-two days away and her nine weeks along with Benny Junior, I was worried about her." Ben could almost imagine the sinister grin on the other side of the line. Ben's phone beeped with an incoming picture message. It was Kendra, dressed in her dark blue scrubs and at the hospital, with her hair pulled up in the exact same style as it had been that morning. According to the time stamp, the picture had been taken twenty minutes ago.

"How did you-" Anger began building as Ben leaned forward in his chair. How dare this man mention his fiancée? How did he know she was pregnant? She wasn't showing, their doctor appointment was last Monday. They hadn't even told their parents.

"And William and Timothy? How do they like their freshman years at Oxford? How are your parents? Still living in Brentwood?" A slight pause and the man continued. "These people, boring as they may be, are your whole life. Am I wrong? I would not mind leaving them alone, but I get bored, you see. How do you prefer? Gun shot. Knife to the pregnant belly. Car accident. I could get more creative if you like."

"What?!" By this time Ben was a mix of confused, scared and furious. "Who the _hell _are you?!"

"My name is Jim Moriarty."

"What do you want?" Ben put his hand on his forehead, not hiding his nerves as well as he thought.

"You to do exactly as I say."

* * *

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Doppelganger by GraceW**

**Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, since this is my first foray into writing Sherlock, I would really appreciate the feedback. Reviewing always makes a writer's day and its not that hard to do. Thank you for reading! :) **

**Chapter 2**

_What just happened? _Ben was an emotional mess as he speed dialed his fiancée. He paced back and forth as the phone rang. _Come on Kendra, please pick up. _

"Hey babe." Kendra's voice had never sounded so beautiful.

"H-hi." Ben stammered, his eyes threatening to spill tears, but he kept his voice as steady as he could.

"You alright? I'm on a quick break, so I can't talk long, we're short today."

"I'm fine." He cleared his throat and went on. "Just wanted to say hello, and make sure you were alright."

"I'm doing wonderful, just finishing my second cup of coffee." Her cheeky grin was evident through the phone. "Look, I've got to go or Doctor Fleming will have my head."

"I love you. So much."

"Love you too. Can't wait to see you. We're still on for dinner, right?"

"Dinner…yep. Pizza alright?"

"Sounds perfect. I'll pick it up on my way home from work. Look, I've got to run. Love ya!"

"Bye…" Kendra hung up, leaving Ben listening to the empty space of a disconnected phone. _This is either the world's evilest prank, the weirdest nightmare, or this man is real._ He was sure that he wasn't dreaming, and a university prank could only go so far.

What did the man want him to do?

_The box._

Ben took off like a shot for the location of the box. Upon reaching the bench, he pulled to a sudden halt and approached the black plastic lidded box with care.

Apprehensively, the young man popped the lid. A packet of black hair dye sat on the top of a neatly folded pile of clothes, which turned out to be a rather nice dark two-piece suit and white dress shirt. A pair of dress shoes lay in a plastic bag, along with a pair of nice leather gloves. At the bottom of the box was a large heavy dark overcoat. He picked up the coat, holding it up to get a better look at it, it looked expensive. An object fell out and landed on the ground, putting the coat back in the box, he leaned down to pick it up. It was a scarf, a soft blue scarf.

As if on perfect cue, his phone chirped. The incoming text message was from an unknown number and read: _I assume you know what to do with these items. Report to the entrance to Charing Cross Station tomorrow morning at 9:00. –M _

His next class and then the short walk to his small flat were a blur, he wouldn't remember anything that was covered in lecture, or how he survived the walk through busy streets of London. Mental images of Kendra, his brothers, or his parents, all violently murdered flooded his mind. Whatever this man required, he would do. He couldn't lose his family, not if he could do anything about it. Why did this madman have to call him?

His flat was small, but homey and lived in. His stack of magazines and books as well as a used coffee mug already littered the small table where he threw his keys, laptop and backpack. Unnecessarily careful, as if he was handling a bomb, Ben placed the black box on his bed. Quickly unpacking the folded clothes and large coat, he hung them in the closet. The hair dye would be the biggest problem, having never dyed his hair. It couldn't be that hard, right?

A single knock preceded the noise of his front door opening and a familiar voice called out. "Ben! I'm here. I got pepperoni, I hope that's alright."

"In the bedroom." He called back, quickly shoving the dye in the top drawer of his dresser. Walking into the living room, he continued. "You look amazing."

"I'm sure." She rolled her eyes at him. "Twelve hour shifts must be the cure for bad hair days."

He walked up to her, grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, gently at first but then deepening the passion. After he broke it, she fluttered her eyes open. "Wow, that was good. What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason?"

She grinned. "I suppose not."

Ben walked Kendra home around nine that night after a quiet night in. He held her hand and she bemoaned the fact that she had to work again the next morning, chatting about various nurses and doctors and the lack of fresh coffee at the nurse's station. With another deep kiss, he left her to catch up with her roommates and hopefully head to bed soon.

The short lonely walk back to his flat was chilly, but he barely noticed. Coming home, he walked right to the bathroom. _Might as well get it over with_, He thought.

After some trial and error and a stained bath towel, his hair dyeing experience was finished.

He stood in the shower, letting the water beat down on him, and tried not to think too much. Toweled off, his now black hair sticking up in every direction, he found clean pyjamas and the bottle of whiskey he kept around. Normally he wouldn't drink like this, but it probably wouldn't hurt to have some help sleeping tonight.

His seven-thirty alarm rang like it did every morning, bolting him out of his alcohol induced sleep, his head throbbed. Coffee, he needed coffee.

An hour later, he was caffeinated, fed, and dressed for his part. The suit was professionally tailored and slim fitting, somehow he didn't want to know where Moriarty had gotten his measurements. The overcoat fit well and would keep out the early morning rain chill. He didn't look like himself at all. _Who_ was he supposed to be? What had that poor guy done to get the attention of a person like Moriarty? Was this a set up or a heist or a gang thing? Sighing, he took one last look in the mirror and left the flat.

Charing Cross had its usual morning rush, workers headed off to another day at the office. No one paid him any mind, although he got a couple second glances. At 9:00 on the dot, a black car pulled up to the corner and a man stepped out. Holding the door, the large man looked right at Ben and said, "Sir."

Ben awkwardly looked around, double checking that he was the one being addressed. After a glance back at the car, he walked up and slid in the backseat. After entering, he noticed a slim dark haired man in a black dress suit sitting across the seat from him, aviator sunglasses loosely held in one hand.

"Hello Ben. I'm Jim Moriarty. Would you like something to drink?"

Ben just stared at him. The man who had so flippantly threatened to murder his family was sitting in front of him offering a beverage. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around the man's neck, or shoot him, or toss him in the Thames. A million ways to kill this monster rushed into his already racing mind. He started unconsciously shaking as Moriarty smiled predatorily. "I wouldn't try anything if I were you. If you want your family to live, you'll do exactly as I say. One wrong move and they die. Do you understand?"

Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, the young man nodded his head, trying to mentally calm and prepare himself.

"I will take that as an affirmative. Let's go through the juicy details."

* * *

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Doppelganger by GraceW**

**Chapter 3**

Children ran about and parents chatted with teachers, as school friends said goodbyes. St. Aldate's School teamed with life. Ben had been instructed to enter the school and find a place to hide until nightfall. He milled about, making a quick trip around the estate and by the rooms he needed to be familiar with. He had to do this right, any mistakes and his family could suffer.

Ducking into a science classroom's storage closet, Ben settled onto the ground next to the beakers and Bunsen burners, pulled off the scarf and made sure he would be hidden if anyone popped into the classroom. The long wait began.

His phone buzzed and a new message lighted up the screen. _It's show time. _The text came at quarter to midnight, just over twelve hours after arriving. Ben was dreading the next few hours, but just a tiny bit antsy to get out of the classroom. Only so many hours could be spent on one's phone and napping while hiding in a closet.

Taking a deep breath, Ben pulled out the small gun he had been given for the job. He stared at it with disgust. Having never fired a gun before, he resolved to not change that fact tonight.

The girl was first, so Moriarty had dictated. Being the smaller and younger of the two, it would be easier to force her around to capture the boy, at least that's what he had been told. Once the children had been collected, a car would be waiting to take them to the warehouse. Moriarty had promised the children would not be killed, that they were just kidnapping them to get someone's attention and within a matter of days they would be safe again. Somehow that justified his actions. He would not be taking any lives; the children could spend a few days in the warehouse if it meant that Kendra and his family would live.

The little girl's room was dark, except for the moonlight shining through the window. He located the girl's bed. She was sleeping, tucked in with a grey teddy bear and pink bed sheets. He quickly tucked the brown package he had been given to plant into her school trunk. She looked so innocent, so small. Kids were never supposed to go through something like this. This kidnapping would steal part of their childhood. Ben hesitated a second, before finding his nerve. He reached down, covering the girl's mouth with a gloved hand, pulling her up and out of bed, tucking her in his left arm.

She sobbed loudly. At first he feared someone would hear them, but she quickly reduced it to silent sobs of fear when he waved the gun around. Ben played his part, but tried as much as he could to not physically hurt her. She squirmed so much, he had to drag her, keeping a strong arm secure around her arms and neck.

The boy must have seen him coming, because he was out of his bed holding a small jar and his pillow. "W-what are you do-doing."

"Shut up!" Ben tried to sound threatening. The girl bawled into his left arm as he pointed the gun in his right hand at the boy. "Let's go."

He kept the safety of the gun on and his finger off of the trigger as he held the gun to the boy's head to walk ahead of them out of the room. _No one dies tonight_. He wished with all his heart that he could explain himself to these kids. He wished that _he_ knew why. The boy stumbled in the hallway, his posture stiff with anxiety, but kept silent for the most part.

The van waited in the circle driveway just as Moriarty had said. The man behind the wheel didn't look at Ben or say anything at all. He simply started the van and began driving once Ben had shut the door.

Ben sat the kids down on the floor, himself taking one of the bucket seats in the middle. He kept the gun loosely pointed at the kids, who were both whimpering. The boy held his little sister, his arms protectively around her. It broke Ben's already torn heart. He imagined that it was his son and daughter. He imagined being the parents when they would find out the news tomorrow. Tears began tugging at the back of his eyes.

_NO! _He had to stop. If this plan went wrong, he would never have the chance to be a dad. His unborn child would die along with the love of his life. If his brothers…he'd never get the chance to be an uncle. He couldn't lose them. These kids would be alright in a few days, this was justified. Right?

The hour long drive seemed to last an eternity, but eventually the van came to a halt outside a warehouse. He had never been to this part of London before, but he guessed they were southwest of the city's center. Ben had been instructed to bring the kids inside and lock them in the large disused factory room.

The boy and girl climbed out of the van in front of him, arms wrapped around each other. Poking the boy in the back with the gun, Ben herded them into the warehouse and then into the large room. Every single entrance and exit had been either locked or boarded up; the children would not be able to escape on their own. His broken heart crumpled further as they cried out when he closed them in, pulling the iron bar across the door as instructed.

Ben sat in silence as the henchman drove towards King's College housing, trying not to think about what had just happened, what he had done. Half past three in the morning and the van pulled up across the street from his building. The large man turned around in the driver seat and finally spoke. "Leave the gun."

Ben placed the small firearm on the chair, glad to be rid of the thing. The man spoke again as Ben hopped out of the van. "He is watching. Keep your head down and you and yours will stay alive."

They both knew who "He" was. Feeling quite anxious and completely exhausted, Ben slammed the door and ran across the empty road and up the stairs to his flat. It took an extra second to open the door, because his hands shook while pulling out his keys. After discarding his costume on the floor of the living room, he rummaged around the medicine cabinet looking for a little bottle of pills. Finding it, he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and popped a pair of sleeping pills.

Grabbing his phone out of the pants pocket, he flopped onto his bed, not bothering or even wanting to turn off the lights. Opening his messages he sent a quick text to Kendra. _Call me in the morning before work. I love you, sweetheart._

Turning over and clutching the blankets around him, Ben felt the emotions of the day well up inside him. Tears began to fall and the twenty-three year old physics student-turned-kidnapper curled up alone and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

**TBC- one more chapter to go!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Doppelganger by GraceW**

**Author's Note: Alright, last chapter. I really enjoyed writing this, and got quite attached to Ben. Please let me know what you think, feedback is always welcome. Thanks to those who put this on their follow list and reviewed. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Chapter 4**

"The next morning I woke up to Kendra's call and tried to get back to normal life. The news said that you found the kids a day and a half later. I didn't know about the mercury poisoning. The little boy spent a month in the hospital, but they said he was going to be alright." Ben Carlton rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit, still not making eye contact with the army doctor.

"I didn't dare tell anyone and I have been carrying the guilt around. But I guess things have been getting back to normal. I got married two months ago, and that's been wonderful. Kendra's starting to have a bigger baby bump and doctor's say it's a boy." Ben sighed before mindlessly stirring his half empty cuppa, now cold after the time telling his story to Doctor Watson. "I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to say how much I regret everything that happened. I followed your friend's story on the news. It was my fault."

"I forgive you."

"W-what?"

"You won't be able to, or probably willing to share that story with anyone else. So I'm saying it for the children and parents, the police and for myself. I forgive is the guilty one, not you. You were blackmailed into it, and I'm sure you did what anyone else would have done in your situation." John reached out and put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I would do anything for my family."

"You did. And no one died because you handled it as best you could."

"Your friend..." Ben trailed off, clearly uncertain and guilty.

"It's not your fault." John sighed and tried to smile.

"I know he wasn't a fake. Moriarty was real; he blackmailed people to get what he wanted…" Ben paused, unsure of his next question. "Your friend, I saw his hat picture in the paper, but I'm wondering if you have a real photo?"

John stared at the kid for a second before nodding and standing up. He reached to the bookcase, pulling out the London A-Z book they had acquired just under two years ago. Inside the pages Mrs. Hudson had tucked away a picture someone had snapped at a crime scene. Sherlock had noticed right away and had slightly ranted about Mrs. Hudson messing up his books. John had always planned to get it framed and put up on the mantel, next to the skull, but here it lay. The picture itself was of himself and Sherlock. John was standing with arms crossed, Sherlock kneeling as if he had been inspecting something on the ground. However both of them were smiling, looking in the same direction to the left of the photographer, sharing a laugh. John couldn't even remember what about.

"Here" John handed off the photo.

Ben held it for a long second before handing it back and standing up. "That's a good picture of you two."

"Thanks…" John trailed off lost in the memory.

"I'm sure I've taken enough of your time, thanks for the tea." Ben awkwardly grabbed his leather jacket and walked towards the door.

John quickly snatched up a pen and paper, writing his email and phone number on it. "Ben, I want you to stay in touch. Let me know when that baby comes."

The young man took the paper and carefully folded it, placing it in his pocket. Staring at his shoes for a second, he leaned in for a quick hug, squeezing gently before letting go. "I will, I promise. You have helped me, more than you know. Thank you, John."

"You aren't the only one who needed that." John genuinely smiled as the young man walked out of his door on to the busy London streets.

* * *

The other side of London a phone vibrated and a man otherwise unknown as the British Government responded.

_You called? –S_

_I expected a call back. -MH_

_Can't really talk right now, or ever. You know how much I detest calls. –S _

_Benedict Carlton finally spoke with JW. –MH_

_Good. –S_

_Where you off to next? –MH_

_Shouldn't you know already? –S_

_Just making conversation. –MH_

_New York. How's the cake? –S_

_The diet jokes are getting old. –MH_

_Just making conversation. –S_

_The network is more elusive than first thought. This may take longer than originally planned. -S_

_Take care of them. –S_

The man behind the desk didn't bother with a response, knowing exactly who the message meant. Instead he called a different number. "I need you to deposit more funds into the bank accounts of the Carlton's and John Watson. Grant the DI's pay raise and get eyes on their homes as well as more security for 221 Baker Street."

* * *

**FIN**


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